Novels Now

The young Canadian, who could not have been more than fifteen, had hesitated too long. For a frozen moment, his feet had stopped moving on the floating logs in the basin above the river bend; he’d slipped entirely underwater before anyone could grab his outstretched hand. One of the loggers had reached for the youth’s long hair – the older man’s fingers groped around in the frigid water, which was thick, almost soupy, with sloughed-off slabs of bark. Then two logs collided hard on the would-be rescuer’s arm, breaking his wrist. The carpet of moving logs had completely closed over the young Canadian, who never surfaced; not even a hand or one of his boots broke out of the brown water. - from Last Night in Twisted River, page 1 -

Twelve year old Daniel lives with his father, Dominic Baciagalupo, in a logging camp along Twisted River in Coos County New Hampshire. Daniel’s father is the cook for the loggers and has been raising his son alone ever since the boy’s mother drowned in the cold, rushing waters of Twisted River. One fateful night, Daniel mistakes his father’s girlfriend Jane for a bear and accidentally kills her. Frightened that the town’s chief law enforcement officer (a drunk with a history of beating women) will not believe their story, Dominic and Daniel flee to Massachusetts and make their new lives in the heart of Boston’s North End. What follows is the story of not only Daniel and his father, but also the tale of Ketchum – a surly, big-hearted river driver with an independent streak who remains the duo’s friend for years.

Beginning in 1954 in New Hampshire, the novel spans more than fifty years (ending in 2005) and moves from Boston to Vermont to Iowa to Colorado and finally to Toronto. As with all Irving novels, the characters drive the narrative…and Last Night in Twisted River is full of memorable characters. My favorite is the gritty Ketchum whose libertarian politics and belief in street justice (not to mention his avoidance of technology except for his beloved fax machine) make him one of the more lovable and humorous characters of the sprawling novel.

Last Night in Twisted River is classic John Irving story telling at its best. Filled with quirky characters and marked by Irving’s signature meandering style, the novel is big, lush and captivating. I have long been a John Irving fan and so I know that when I open one of his novels I must give myself up to the story and simply go along for the ride. No one tells a story quite like Irving, and in Last Night In Twisted River the story is about life with all its ups and downs, unexpected events, and relationships which surprise us. Wound through the pages of this novel is the idea of fate, chance happenings, and the idea that we cannot always map out our lives.

We don’t always have a choice how we get to know one another. Sometimes, people fall into our lives cleanly – as if out of the sky, or as if there were a direct flight from Heaven to Earth  the same sudden way we lose people, who once seemed they would always be part of our lives. – from Last Night in Twisted River, page 550 -

Last Night in Twisted River is also about fathers and sons – a common theme in Irving novels – and how parental relationships shape who we become. Daniel becomes a famous author, and Irving has a little fun with his readers by inserting a bit of himself into the character (who has a tendency to overuse semi-colons in his writing).

All that was true the cook thought. Somehow what struck him about Daniel’s fiction was that it was both autobiographical and not autobiographical at the same time. - from Last Night in Twisted River, page 230 -

Readers who love Irving’s early work (The World According to Garp, A Prayer For Owen Meany, and Hotel New Hampshire), and who were swept away by his controversial novels (The Cider House Rules and A Widow For One Year) will not be disappointed in his latest novel. In Last Night in Twisted River, Irving has brought together all his powers as a storyteller. Despite its length (more than 500 pages), I wanted the book to go on and on. When I turned the final page, I was not ready to say good-bye to the characters I had grown to love. For readers waiting for Irving’s next great novel, the wait is over.

Highly recommended.

To-Do List:

1. Take Laurie to her one-month wellness appointment.
2. Visit Galigani in the hospital, find out what happened to him.
3. Find George.
4. Interview Kiku (bring own water!).
5. Call Winter Henderson re: hippie chick alibi.
6. Read the parenting book from library.
7. Find the parenting book from library.
8. Oh yeah, diet, exercise, clean car, be good mom/wife, cook clean, and all that jazz. - from Bundle of Trouble, page 124 -

Kate Connolly is on leave from her job because she has just given birth to her baby daughter, Laurie. But her maternity leave quickly becomes complicated following a call from the San Francisco medical examiner’s office investigating a dead body found floating in the Bay. When Kate discovers the dead man is the husband of a high school friend, and then that friend turns up dead, she becomes immersed in the case. Kate does not let the lack of formal training as a private investigator deter her…and with baby in hand, she pieces together the clues to solve the case…and remove her own husband from the suspect list.

Bundle of Trouble is Diana Orgain’s first mystery novel…which I would classify as “cozy.” Lighthearted and a bit predictable, the story makes for a quick read. It veers down a different path from most books in this genre because of its protagonist Kate…whose first role is as new mother, and who gives a new meaning to multi-tasking.

Orgain writes firmly in Kate’s point of view, my only quibble was her use of questions as internal dialogue which wore on me after awhile. Although Orgain’s protagonist is certainly likable, I had a hard time relating to Kate having no children of my own – not a fault of the author, but something to consider in terms of the target audience for this book. Bundle of Trouble was a bit cutesy for me – but in fairness to the author, it is not supposed to be deep literary fiction, and I will admit to not always loving books from this genre.

Despite these minor flaws, Orgain has created an entertaining and comical debut novel which cozy-mystery lovers will enjoy. Penguin will be publishing more of Orgain’s Kate Connolly mysteries…in fact, the next book in the series (Motherhood Is Murder) will be available in the Spring of 2010.  The Maternal Instincts Mystery Series juxtaposes child development with Kate Connolly’s development as a P.I.  Bundle of Trouble represents the first six weeks of baby development; Book Two represents month two, etc… Read more at the author’s website.

And holding her hands there, as the minister spoke, he realized that love was making him into far more than he ever could have been on his own. He could have sailed around the earth in a hot-air balloon or been a scientist inside a laboratory solving cancer and still those things would have been nothing compared to what she needed him to be, compared to the vessel she was turning him into. - from The Cradle, page 110 -

Matthew and Marissa Bishop are expecting their first baby, and Marissa has decided she must have the old cradle she was once rocked in and which disappeared with her mother six years before. Matthew reluctantly agrees to locate Marissa’s mother and retrieve the cradle…but he has no idea where his search will take him. As Matthew travels first from one small town to the other on his quest, he begins to uncover the secrets of his wife’s family which stir memories of his own childhood he believes he had long ago put to rest. Set in the midwest, The Cradle is a novel about loss, belonging, love, and the tenuous threads that bind us to each other.

The Cradle is actually two parallel stories: that of Matthew and Marissa, and that of an older couple Renee and Bill who are seeing their nineteen year old son off to war in Iraq. Told from these two perspectives, the novel jumps back and forth in time and alludes to connections between the couples. It is not until close to the end that Somerville weaves together the disparate narratives and leaves the reader with a satisfying conclusion.

I was pleasantly surprised by Somerville’s debut novel. My initial reaction is that this would be a “light” read, a bit of romance, more chick lit than anything deeper. I could not have been more wrong. Somerville has a firm grasp of what makes a literary novel throb with life – strong and conflicted characters, internal struggle, and themes which delve deeply into what make us human. I found myself drawn to Matthew, a character who has been damaged and yet elevates himself through the simple act of caring about others.

The Cradle is full of hope and answers the questions: What brings us happiness? What completes us? It is not the material goods we acquire or think we need, rather it is our connection to others which brings us joy. I was deeply moved by this simple, yet compelling novel. I hope that Somerville has many more such stories to share with us.

Highly Recommended.

My interest – okay, obsession – with math is genuine, and has been since the first time I was ripped away from the life I loved. I buried myself in numbers and word problems where an answer was certain (or at least in the back of the book) and I knew I’d found something I could count on. – from The Girl She Used To Be, page 5 -

Melody Grace McCartney has been in the Witness Protection Program since the age of six, along with her parents who have since been murdered by the mob they testified against. Moved by the federal government dozens of times to small towns across America, Melody wishes for only one thing: to have a normal life and her own name. So when one night she meets Jonathon Bovaro, the son of the man who was responsible for killing her parents, she is especially vulnerable to his charms…and his promise to protect her.

And for some reason I feel free, that I have been in touch with both sides, with the light and the dark of my existence, and that I have somehow managed to find peace. Whether there is validity to this notion is irrelevant; right now, it feels valid. I’m not going to destroy it by overanalyzing. – from The Girl She Used To Be, page 48 -

David Cristofano’s debut novel is a fast-paced, compelling look at identity, and our ability to trust and love after tragedy. The Girl She Used To Be is a well-constructed novel with a complex protagonist. Melody’s journey from child victim to rebellious adolescent to independent young adult is painful. The core of the story revolves around the question of how we form our identities, and how early experiences impact our development.

I have to admit that I was not sure how I would like this novel. At times, the story felt a bit contrived – but ultimately I found myself unable to stop turning the pages. I wanted to know how Melody’s life would turn out; I wished for something better for her; I ached for those things missing in her life – a family, a person who loved her for her, a normal life. Melody is not always likable – at times she is whiny and petulant – but as the story unfolds, her behavior becomes understandable.

Cristofano has crafted an unusual novel – one of imagination and depth – which kept me interested from start to finish. Readers who like their literary fiction with a touch of mystery will greatly enjoy The Girl She Used To Be. I will look forward to reading more from this talented new author.

Recommended.

Every year as August wanes and the school year looms, New Orleans can expect to see at least one or two storms. They are as much a part of the calendar as Thanksgiving or Easter. Many people who can leave town do so, driving to Baton Rouge, or Lafayette, or Jackson or Houston, just in case the weather does enough damage to pull down the electrical grid for a couple of days. Many others choose to stay. – from City of Refuge, page 27 -

SJ Williams lives in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans. He shares his life with his nephew Wesley and sister Lucy while still grieving for the loss of his wife Rosetta. SJ is a carpenter and takes pride in his home and community – a vibrant neighborhood where everyone knows everyone; where neighbors help neighbors.

He loved living in the Lower Ninth Ward. Its rhythm was his rhythm, despite the danger, the violence. It was their place; it belonged to the people in the Ninth Ward and they knew it and they managed as they could, and they were proud to have made lives there. No one had ever promised them, of all people, that life was going to be easy or without daily struggle, and there, at least, they took pride that it was their own struggle. And unlike in some other parts of town, there weren’t a lot of people from outside coming through to bother them. SJ had built part of it, just like his father and grandfather, and it had made him who and what he was, and it had made his parents and almost everyone he knew. – from City of Refuge, page 12 -

Craig Donaldson has moved to New Orleans from the Midwest and has settled with his wife and two young children in a desirable neighborhood. Craig works as an editor for an alternative newspaper. On the surface he seems to have it all – but there are deep cracks in his marriage to Alice who wants to leave New Orleans and return to her Midwestern roots; while Craig’s love of New Orleans lies deep within him and the city has come to be a part of who he is.

His self was invested in the city, in its rituals; he read meaning into it and it returned the favor by endowing him with a set of coordinates, a loose confederation of attitudes, and a community of others who operated under the same constellation. It was not a constellation of meaning he’d been born into; it was a refuge he’d found, a world that worked in a way he needed the world to work, a safe harbor to get away from something in himself for which he lacked a name, some emptiness, some longing, some intimation that perhaps he did not really even exist…But what if it wasn’t here anymore? Where, exactly would he be? – from City of Refuge, page 80 -

Different in significant ways, not the least the color of their skin (SJ is black, Craig is white)…the two men’s lives will parallel each other when Katrina – a devastating Category Five hurricane – hits New Orleans. Faced with an uncertain future, both men will have to decide to either stay and rebuild, or leave the city they love.

Tom Piazza’s novel City of Refuge takes a hard and brutally honest look at one of the most shameful natural disasters in American history through the eyes of two compelling characters. In August 2005, Hurricane Katrina brushed New Orleans with its lethal strength and contributed to the failure of the old and poorly constructed levee system. City, State and Federal governments were slow to response to the tragedy. The ineptness of the response played out on the national news with horrifying images of refugees dying in the Superdome, Convention Center and on the streets. Piazza reveals the humanity behind the tragedy in his beautifully written novel. Laced with the flavor of New Orleans, City of Refuge transports the reader to the days before the hurricane and the months following. In an interview printed at the end of the novel, Piazza says:

You can’t understand the kind of experience that people in New Orleans went through from an air-conditioned bus. You need to get the mud and the water and the blood all over you. So that was how I approached the material.

Piazza is successful in this effort – the scenes immediately following the disaster, seen through SJ’s eyes, are stunning, sad, and horrible. They also generated a certain amount of renewed rage in me for HOW and WHY the disaster played out as it did.

In the midst of it, with up and right and green and there and down and left and here and red jabbering incoherently, you did what you could until help arrived, whether you led a child by the hand through the ruined streets, or endured the blazing sidewalk heat in the crowd outside the Convention Center, or sat trapped in a wheelchair in your living room, abandoned by the nurse, as the water crept up around your ankles, and then your knees, praying, knowing that God never sent you nothing that you couldn’t handle, so it must have been someone else sent all that water that rose mercilessly past your lips and nose (they found you later, out of your wheelchair, under your refrigerator, which had floated and come to rest on top of you), or squatted with hundreds of others in the red haze of afternoon amid the other garbage by the side of the empty interstate, waiting for a helicopter, or a bus or a truck waiting for passage up and out to some city of refuge waiting on a strange horizon. – from City of Refuge, page 169 -

But City of Refuge is more than just a replaying of the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Piazza’s characters are carefully drawn and very human. Their story asks an essential question: What is the definition of home? It is not just a place, but a community, one’s family, and sense of belonging that develops because of the spirit of the people who live there. Many people have wondered: why rebuild New Orleans? And that question is part and parcel of Piazza’s novel. The answer is complex, but Piazza has simplified it. By showing us the people behind the tragedy – their dreams, their families, their hopes for the future – the question turns on itself. Why NOT rebuild?

But New Orleans had been the most lush garden in the world, to him, and now here they were huddled around these few remaining stalks, trying to warm themselves…It was like living in an optical illusion; from one angle the city was a ruined shell of itself, where people hung onto the wreckage for dear life; from another angle it was already coming back, insisting on not dying, full of examples of the human spirit defiantly asserting itself in the face of the worst that life could dish out. – from City of Refuge, page 306 -

Only a few pages into City of Refuge, I knew I would love this book. Piazza’s writing is honest and deeply empathetic. It is not surprising that New Orleans becomes almost another character in the novel … Piazza not only survived Hurricane Katrina, he continues to reside there. Although the book exposes the horror and sadness of the tragedy – and reveals the desperation of the people who were affected – it is not a depressing novel. Rather, it leaves the reader with hope and a glimpse into the enduring spirit of a community.

Highly recommended.

I looked at myself in the mirror. And I saw her. With each step, Margaret’s ghost expanded. Gingerly, I touched the glass. I thought of those fairy-tale mirrors that show you your dearest wish in return for some terrible price. Mirror, mirror on the wall. Your firstborn son for straw woven into gold, a glimpse of your drowned sister for something more expensive. Margaret filled the mirror and floated off the edges, and by the time I’d backed away far enough for the glass to contain her, Margaret had vanished, and there I was, wearing her hula shirt. – from Goldengrove, page 50 -

People told us we looked alike, but I couldn’t see it. Margaret was the beautiful sister, willowy and blond. The lake breeze carried her perfect smell. She smelled like cookies baking. She claimed it wasn’t perfume. It was her essence, I guessed. I was the pudgy, awkward sister. I still smelled dusty, like a kid. – from Goldengrove, page 8 -

It was meant to be an idyllic summer – a summer like all the ones before it. But when thirteen year old Nico’s older sister Margaret dives into Mirror Lake and never surfaces, everything changes. Set in New England, Goldengrove is the story of that fateful summer. Narrated in the provocative and compelling voice of Nico, the novel reveals the cracks in a family which widen with the tragedy. Nico, on the cusp of womanhood, finds herself floating free without the sage advice of her sister. Nico connects with Margaret’s boyfriend, the artistic and slightly strange Aaron – a person whom she feels free to share her stories of Margaret and the pain of loss. But Aaron is also struggling with Margaret’s death…and in Nico he sees the young woman who he once loved.

I knew the reason Aaron liked being with me was that I reminded him of my sister. I’d catch him squinting at me, searching for traces of her. I knew it, and I didn’t. Some part of me believed that Aaron liked the part of me that was Nico, whoever that was. I felt as if Margaret were a plant inside me that, nurtured by Aaron, had begun to blossom. Mostly, it was fine with me, but sometimes – usually when I was tired or lonely – it scared me. I felt as if I, and not Margaret, was the one who had disappeared, or as if I’d become a petri dish in which my sister was growing. There were days when I wanted to say, “I’m the living sister.” – from Goldengrove, page 174 -

As the summer slips by, Aaron and Nico’s relationship inches towards a dangerous conclusion … and Nico must struggle to  move from adolescence into adulthood, and come to an understanding of her own needs in the wake of her sister’s death.

Francine Prose’s novel is that of grief, recovery, and the search for one’s identity. Tender, yet realistic, Goldengrove explores the impact of suddenly losing a child and a sibling. Although the story is told from Nico’s point of view, Prose gives the reader a glimpse into the devastation such a loss has on parents.

Margaret’s death had shaken us, like three dice in a cup, and spilled us out with new faces in unrecognizable combinations. We forgot how we used to live in our house, how we’d passed the time when we lived there. We could have been sea creatures stranded on the beach, puzzling over an empty shell that reminded us of the ocean. - from Goldengrove, page 50 -

Prose does a remarkable job building her characters. Nico’s father’s relationship with his youngest daughter is flawlessly portrayed. Nico clings to her father, wants the connection with him, but also pushes him away as she discovers her own sexuality and desires. Their love of art and reading binds them together, even when everything else seems to be changing.

We were silent for miles. How strange that my father was writing the book about the end of the world, when I was the one who believed that it was going to happen. - from Goldengrove, page 164 -

I read this novel late into the night – drawn to Nico and her journey through grief.  Prose writes radiantly and with a deep understanding of her characters. If there is a flaw in the novel, it is the ending when Prose lifts the reader away from Mirror Lake and the adolescent Nico, and transports us into Nico’s life as an adult. I would have preferred the book end on page 264 – still drenched in late summer sun with a hopeful glimpse into the future.

Despite this minor complaint, Goldengrove is a book I can recommend for its beautiful writing and tender look at a young girl growing up in the wake of tragedy.

Go smiled, said, “When we see ourselves without judgment, then we’ll begin to see and accept others without judgment. We’ll turn the volume down on the external world, and we’ll see we’re all connected, we’re all same-same.” – from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 175 -

Cesar is a troubled seventeen year old, growing up on the streets of Los Angeles. His father is mostly absent. His older brother, Wicho, is serving time for the murder of two teenage boys. Cesar is fast following in his brother’s footsteps – a member of a gang whose violence is pulling Cesar into a world where there is no future. Concerned about her son, and wishing to start over, Cesar’s mother decides to move back to the small town of Unalakleet, Alaska – a fishing village where she grew up. Cesar at first believes the move to be temporary…and makes a bet with his cousin Go-boy that he will move back to LA within a year. But Cesar is unprepared for the power of his cousin’s optimism. Go-boy believes in a Good World Conspiracy…and he is ready to lead the way, sporting an Eskimo Jesus tattoo on one arm while philosophizing about the strength of goodness in their small town.

Go was the only person I’d ever known who could take a good perspective on anything, and the only person I knew who assumed I could and would do the right thing, the good thing. It was obvious that when Wicho told me he believed I would go to college and get him out of jail, he was just messing with a little kid, trying to cheer up his sorry- and lonely-ass little brother. But when Go-boy bet me I’d stay in Alaska, and when Go-boy encouraged me to pursue a hundred other interests and plans, even invited me to help him, it felt authentic. All of it. It was real. And I liked the version of myself that Go-boy saw. – from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 116 -

As Cesar adapts to life in Unalakleet, his vision of the world begins to change. Together, with Go-boy and Go-boy’s half sister Kiana, Cesar begins to envision a different future for himself.

I wrote that if we had grown up here, Wicho wouldn’t have shot anybody. There were no gangs on the tundra. Nobody was shooting to claim shoreline. Nobody was walking around town flashing anything but a wave. - from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 130 -

And when it was deep up here our boats didn’t get stuck, and when all of life’s shit landed on a single day, when the moment arose that we wanted to reach for our guns and spray a bullet or two through a couple people, instead we could drive up North River till we ran out of gas, sit on the shore, skip some rocks, and never see another person. Time was everywhere. We could wait anything out. - from Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same, page 130 -

Mattox Roesch’s debut novel is about hope born of our connectedness with others. Dark at times, the story explores the roots of despair and how easily an individual can choose the wrong path in their search for identity. Narrated in the original voice of seventeen-year-old Cesar, Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same reveals the struggle in choosing a moral path, the guilt of past actions which can not be undone, and the attempt to find meaning in one’s life.

Roesch’s prose is marked by breaks in the narrative, a shifting between past and present. This style did not always work for me, and although it did create a tension in the novel, I found it mostly annoying. Despite this, I thought Roesch got the voice of Cesar “right.” Tough and occasionally insensitive, Cesar was not always a likable character. Although the novel is about Cesar’s growth, I was more strongly drawn to Go-boy who is a quirky, sensitive guy wanting desperately to believe in the goodness of others. Go-boy’s decompensation, as Cesar becomes stronger, was a powerful aspect of the book.

I finished this book with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I loved the message of the book and the originality of the prose. On the other hand, I found Roesch’s style sometimes difficult to read. I believe young adults will be drawn to Roesch’s teenage narrator and Sometimes We’re Always Real Same-Same would make for an excellent book discussion. Readers looking to gain insight into a troubled teen’s thoughts will find this novel compelling.

Where is my village? Where do I live? I live on this train. I used to live in one place and I will live in another but now I live in this perfect place between the past and the future, the known and the unknown, the bad and the good. – from A Disobedient Girl, page 128 -

Sri Lanka is located in Southern Asia, an island which lies in the Indian Ocean south of India. The war between the Sinhalese majority and Tamil separatists began in 1983 and the resulting ethnic conflict has contributed to thousands of deaths. Despite a cease-fire negotiated by Norway in 2002 between the government of Sri Lanka and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), renewed violence occurred in 2006. It is against this political backdrop, spanning a 30 year period, that Ru Freeman’s debut novel unfolds.

A Disobedient Girl begins as two parallel stories. Biso, a mother of three who is fleeing her abusive husband, envisions a future of hope and new beginnings but her journey quickly becomes disastrous. As one unpredictable event after another occurs, Biso must make decisions which will have a lasting impact on those closest to her.

Such bliss is not meant to last. In my husband’s house, my children were my real gifts: the older ones had turned fear over and over in my stomach until it molted into rage, and perhaps it was that rage, that sudden fearlessness in me, that had caught Siri’s eye and brought me my youngest, the second daughter, who finally gave wings to my feet. Wings. Or rails. I am grateful for this chance, for the future, for the train that is carrying us there, its carriages full of strangers, kind to one another, kinder than anyone had been to me in my husband’s village. I am grateful for its spaces, which fill up and release people, empty of fear. – from A Disobedient Girl, page 123 -

Latha (a servant girl) and  her mistress Thara (the daughter of high caste parents) grow up together as friends. But when Latha makes a fateful decision to seek revenge against Thara’s mother, the girls’ friendship and Latha’s future is threatened. Latha is sent to a convent, then two years later returns to Thara’s home where she must deal with her own personal desires and the hope for a better future despite the limitations of class and prejudice.

Latha froze. There is was again: a proper servant. That was all they had expected of her. Despite her education, regardless of it, and her looks, she was supposed to be no more, no less. Servant. – from A Disobedient Girl, page 324 -

The novel is narrated in alternating viewpoints: first through the third person limited point of view of Latha over a 30 year span of time; and then through the first person point of view of Biso over the course of a few days. This unique technique is effective in building tension and setting the stage for a surprising twist at the end.

A Disobedient Girl examines the destructive power of secrets, betrayal, loss, and domestic violence, and the power of love to overcome tragedy. Sri Lanka is not only a source, but a destination country for the trafficking of men and women for the purposes of involuntary servitude and commercial sexual exploitation…and in Freeman’s debut novel, this aspect of Sri Lanka is revealed through the eyes of her characters who experience these dangers first hand.

Ru Freeman’s writing is stunning, beautifully crafted and powerful. She carefully reveals her characters’ desires, motivations and flaws…and in so doing, draws the reader into their stories. I found myself marking passage after passage of this extraordinary novel. One passage reads:

All my children grab my body, pressing close to me, screaming with fake terror. I listen to the echoes of other children’s voices from compartments to either side of ours. These shrieks that I have heard each time we pass through a tunnel lift my spirits. They are the sounds of childhood and innocence. When we are out of the tunnel and my children let go of me, I feel unmoored. - from A Disobedient Girl, page 123 -

Indeed, I felt unmoored at times while reading A Disobedient Girl – transported to another time and place, experiencing things which most Americans can only imagine, and feeling moved and haunted by the book’s characters…who although fictional, could be almost any woman living under such circumstances. Freeman does not spare her readers from the raw emotions of fear, anger, or desperation. But, she also allows for the hope of redemption and salvation.

Like the train which Biso boards, A Disobedient Girl moves relentlessly forward towards its heartbreaking, yet hopeful conclusion.  When I turned the final page I felt awed by the power of the human spirit which is able to survive the worst of tragedies; and the strength of people to continue on in the face of loss and overwhelming odds.

Readers who love literary fiction and who want to be wowed by a writer’s talent, should look no further.

Highly recommended.

Read a guest post by Ru Freeman here on Caribousmom.

She used to think that without her brother she would simply cease to exist. But now, as she heard her lungs gasping for air and felt the ache of her knees against the hardwood floor, she knew her body was stubborn; it would insist on remaining alive, even if her life no longer made sense to her. Even if she couldn’t comprehend the world in which she’d found herself. It was frankly impossible, and yet this was her reality now: a world without Billy. – from The Promised World, page 7 -

He never complained that he had to live his life under the shadow of always knowing what Lila could not bear to know. And whenever her pain got too bad, he would remind her of the second part of the plot, an elaborate story of the happy adulthood that he’d constructed out of thin air and taught her to believe in, too. The promised world; their lives, redeemed. – from The Promised World, page 75 -

Lila is a Princeton graduate, a college professor of English Literature and married to the gentle and understanding Patrick. But when Lila’s twin brother Billy threatens a school full of children with an unloaded gun and is killed through “suicide by cop,” Lila’s world unravels. Unable to remember any of her early childhood years and completely dependent on Billy’s interpretation of her past, Lila finds herself floating without an anchor when Billy dies. What really happened to her? What is merely a story… a contrived plot of her life? The Promised World centers around this psychological mystery. Lila must recreate her childhood and unearth both her and Billy’s secrets  in order to not only move forward, but to save her eight year old nephew from a doomed future.

Told from multiple viewpoints, the novel is an examination of memory and the power of storytelling as the characters move through grief, trauma, and betrayal. Tucker’s strength is in her characters who are both deeply flawed and painfully human. Lila is a woman who has essentially been living life like a character in a novel – reality and fantasy have become inexplicably linked. Her struggle to sort out the discrepancies of her life and hold together her marriage with Patrick is raw and believable. Billy’s wife, Ashley, and his children (William and Pearl) have also been caught up in Billy’s world of carefully constructed half-truths. Tucker easily slips into the voice of William – a child who adores his father and only wants to please him, even if it means doing the unthinkable. Although Billy is revealed only through the voices of those around him, he is perhaps the most compelling character – complex, brilliant, and deeply disturbed.

The Promised World is an unnerving novel which examines psychological survival from trauma and loss and questions how well anyone really knows another person. Tucker’s style is conversational and easy to read. The narrative is non-linear and the use of multiple viewpoints works in creating tension – the answers to Billy and Lila’s past are revealed slowly, as if in a dream. I found myself unable to put the book down by the midway point. I wanted to know the truth and I was fascinated with the psychological aspects of the story. Although dark and heartbreaking, The Promised World ultimately delivers a hopeful message.

Readers who have suffered an abusive relationship or been shattered by the suicide of a loved one may find The Promised World difficult to read. But for those who enjoy engrossing character driven novels which examine the human psyche in the aftermath of trauma, Tucker’s book is an intriguing read.

“It’s your turn,” Alexander said. When our mother didn’t respond, he repeated, “Mother, it’s your turn.”

But she wasn’t listening. Her face was turned in the direction of the sea, where the lighthouse of our ancestors had been built on the island of Pharos to the east. We were the greatest family in the world, and could trace or lineage all the way back to Alexander of Macedon. If our father’s battle against Octavian went well, the Ptolemies might rule for anotehr three hundred years. But it his losses continued…. – from Cleopatra’s Daughter, page 1 -

Anyone familiar with Egyptian history knows the story of  Marc Antony and Cleopatra – their romance and rule,  and their tragic fall in 30 BC when Octavian (aided by Marcus Agrippa) defeated Antony at the sea battle of Actium. But few readers are as familiar with the story which followed Antony and Cleopatra’s suicides…that of the life of their twins Alexander and Selene who were only ten years old when they were taken as captives to Rome. Michelle Moran’s latest historical novel, narrated by the young Selene, begins on the fateful day when Octavian marched into Alexandria and claimed it as his own. Beautiful Selene must brave an ocean crossing to Rome and readjust to a life in the home of Octavia – sister to Emperor Octavian who at one time was the wife of  Selene’s father Marc Antony until he abandoned her to marry Cleopatra.  Quickly, Moran sets the stage – introducing such historical characters as Livia (Ocatavian’s jealous wife), Marcellus (Octavia’s son who is in line to be the next Emperor), Juba (Octavian’s devoted aide), and Tiberius (Livia’s son). Moran’s novel is filled with the extraordinary architecture of Egypt and Rome, and brings to life the excitement and horror of Roman life beneath the rule of Octavian through the eyes of Selene.

Michelle Moran is fast becoming a favorite historical novelist for me. Her ability to breathe life into historical characters and transport the reader to another time  is captivating. Moran’s research is impeccable and in Cleopatra’s Daughter, the reader is treated to stunning descriptions of the buildings which were constructed, the details of the clothing of the time, and even the tension of Rome’s corrupt justice system.

We watched the soldiers escort the girl from the platform, and the eyes of the man in fur watched her hotly. She avoided his gaze, looking instead at the weeping woman still standing in the rain. Her mother, I thought sadly. Next to the woman a broad-shouldered centurion placed his hand on his heart in a silent promise. The girl seemed to tremble, then her legs gave way beneath her.

“Tullia!” the man shouted, and I was sure he was her father.

The soldiers lifted her swiftly back onto her feet, and the centurion spun around to the fat man in his furs. “I will kill you!” Her father lunged, but several soldiers moved quickly to stop him.

“Let the judices decide!” Tullia’s lawyer pleaded.

“He’s paid them off!” the father accused. “Even her lawyer knows that heir pockets are filled with this maggot’s gold!” – from Cleopatra’s Daughter, page 335 -

Moran provides an historical time line as well as a  list of characters and a detailed map of Rome to help orient her readers. Her website is also a wonderful resource (especially the interactive map). But readers will find that Moran’s prose needs no explanation. Written with authority in clear, uncomplicated language Cleopatra’s Daughter is an imaginative, beautifully constructed work which fully captures the tumultuous rule of Octavian.

Cleopatra’s Daughter is classified as a cross over between adult fiction and young adult fiction. It is certainly a coming of age tale and will appeal to young adults on that level. But it is also an intricately written story of ancient Rome…one that will captivate adult readers as well. As with Michelle Moran’s previous books, Cleopatra’s Daughter is highly recommended for readers who love historical fiction.

Miss Skeeter move her eyes back to the window, on Miss Hilly’s Buick. She shake her head, just a little. “Aibileen, that talk in there…Hilly’s talk. I mean…”

I pick up a coffee cup, start drying it real good with my cloth.

“Do you ever wish you could…change things?” she asks.

And I can’t help myself. I look at her head on. Cause that’s one a the stupidest questions I ever heard. She got a confused, disgusted look on her face, like she done salted her coffee instead a sugared it. – from The Help, page 10 -

The year is 1962. The place is Jackson, Mississippi. The issue is civil rights. Kathryn Stockett’s best selling debut novel, The Help, is narrated in the unforgettable voices of three women caught up in history and courageous enough to believe things can change simply by sharing their stories.

Skeeter is the white daughter of a cotton farmer. Despite her mother’s wish that she marry a prominent man and become a good Southern wife, Skeeter dreams of a different life for herself – that of a journalist and novelist. Unlike her closest friends, Skeeter doesn’t understand the division between whites and blacks – least of all the hypocrisy of having black women care for their homes and children, but denying them the use of their bathrooms because of fear of “disease.”

Aibileen is the black maid of one of Skeeter’s best friends, Elizabeth. Large, loving and sensitive, Aibileen mourns the loss of her son while wrapping her arms and heart around the white children in her care. Skeeter offers her hope of change – that this new generation might somehow see the racism of their parents and teachers and reject it.

Minny, anther black maid who must face the untrue accusation that she is a thief, is filled with energy, honesty and anger. Her unflagging spirit and kind heart lift her above an abusive marriage and give her the courage to join Aibileen and Skeeter in a project which will shake the racist foundation of a town whose views of segregation have stood fast for far too long.

A Dreft commercial comes on and Miss Celia stares out the back window at the colored man raking up the leaves. She’s got so many azalea bushes, her yard’s going to look like Gone With the Wind come spring. I don’t like azaleas and I sure didn’t like that movie, the way they made slavery look like a big happy tea party. If I’d played Mammy, I’d of told Scarlett to stick those green draperies up her white little pooper. Make her own damn man-catching dress. - from The Help, page 50 -

Thematically, The Help explores parenting, moral values, the many faces of racism, women’s friendships, and the power of joining our voices in a common cause. Skillfully crafted using three narrators in alternating chapters, The Help is a book which is hard to put down. Stockett is a talented storyteller who takes her time in fleshing out her fascinating and complex characters. I found myself growing to care immensely about Aibileen, Minny, and Skeeter. I worried about them, found myself cheering them on, and hoped for a positive resolution of their conflicts. There were moments when I had to remind myself that these were fictional characters, not real people. Perhaps it was the power of their stories, the reminder that less than 50 years ago what they were experiencing was part of our historical record, but Stockett’s characters came alive for me. I felt their fears, their joys, their hurts and triumphs. There are very few books which follow me into my dreams – but The Help was one of these. I went to sleep thinking of the book, and woke up wondering what would happen next in the story.

Kathryn Stockett has written an important novel about what it means to be human regardless of the color of one’s skin. Sensitive, disturbing, and ultimately hopeful, The Help is a must read book.

Highly recommended.

I was like a man, shovel in hand, finding himself standing in a freshly dug grave but with no memory of having dug it. I stayed there because at least if you’ve hit bottom you had no farther to fall. - from The Long Fall -

Leonid McGill is a man of contradictions. He has spent much of his life working for criminals as a Private Investigator, immersing himself in the dangerous world of organized crime. But he has a conscience and now wants to live a different life – one where people don’t get killed just because he can locate them. He’s an ex-boxer who appreciates fine art. He’s a no-nonsense, tough guy with a soft spot for his teenage son and a commitment to a marriage that doesn’t work. Sardonic, oddly sensitive, and matter-of-fact, it is Leonid McGill who narrates Walter Mosley’s newest novel The Long Fall.

It becomes clear from the early pages of The Long Fall that McGill has his hands full with his marriage, his errant kids, and a new job which ends up being a little different than he expected.

I still had a family that looked to me for their sustenance. My wife didn’t love me and the two out of three grown and nearly grown children were not of my blood. But none of that mattered. I had a a job to do, and more than one debt to pay. – from The Long Fall -

Mosley writes in a direct way, revealing his protagonist as a man who although willing to do what it takes to get the job done, also struggles with the choices in his life and realizes he must eventually face his demons. I did not love Leonid McGill, but he eventually grew on me. There are few characters in the book who resonated with me – McGill’s children are a mess, his landlady (who wants to be his lover) is superficially drawn, his wife is pathetic, the men who McGill “works” with are cold-blooded killers for the most part, and even his friends are not people with whom I would enjoy an evening. Because of this, I struggled a bit with this novel. I admit, I want to love the characters I spend my time with…and most of Mosley’s characters seem to have been scrapped up from the worst dregs of society.

Despite this flaw (for me) in the novel, the plot itself is interesting enough. Written like a hard-boiled type mystery, Mosley lays out a mess of a plot, and then gradually untangles it. The narrative style – conversational, direct, rapid-fire – works for the novel. The book reminds me of those old 1940s movies which start out with a guy, feet up on the desk and a curl of cigarette smoke wafting to the ceiling, talking about one dark and lonely night.

The Long Fall is the first in a planned series of mysteries featuring McGill so readers who want more will get their wish. Mystery readers who like their books hard-boiled and who want a flawed character who eventually redeems himself, will enjoy The Long Fall.

The trajectory of any life, laid out across a table, reduced to jottings in a pad, would no doubt seem both damning and inane, our imperfections difficult to justify despite our best intentions. - from Best Intentions, page 302 -

Lisa Barkley seems to have it all – two beautiful daughters with enough money to afford private school for them, a handsome husband who is a journalist, and a prestigious job. But, beneath the seemingly perfect veneer are cracks. When Lisa listens to a voice mail on her husband Sam’s cell phone, she hears a woman’s whispered voice arranging a meeting. Lisa’s suspicions grow when inconsistencies appear in Sam’s itinerary for a story he is working on, and very quickly half-truths and omissions begin to add up to a certainty that Sam is having an affair. To make matters more complicated, Lisa begins to worry about losing her job; her best friend Deidre seems to be embroiled in a dangerous liason with a photographer; and Jack, an old friend from college and Deidre’s ex-boyfriend, arrives in New York to celebrate his 40th birthday with Lisa, Sam and Deidre. Doubts, betrayal, unspoken desire, and secrets come together to ignite the unthinkable, leaving everything changed.

“Do you know the most boring thing in the world to photograph?” Ben asks as he looks over my shoulder.

I shake my head.

“Perfection.”

“What is the most interesting?”

“Duplicity,” he says. “To catch someone in the lie and lay it bare. To expose the difference between who people present themselves as and who they really are. That’s the moment you wait for. The tricky thing is that you don’t always know if you’ve captured it until you see the film.”

“Everyone has a face they present to the world. That doesn’t make them a liar.”

“Maybe not,”  Ben replies. “But it is a very thin line.” – from Best Intentions, page 199 -

Emily Listfield’s novel Best Intentions is classified as a mystery – and indeed, there is a murder and several suspects – but, at its core, the book is about relationships and how those relationships may be altered by misconception and half-truths. It is also about the secrets people keep from each other, the desires they hide, and the lies they tell – especially to those closest to them.

Suspicion crackles and pulls, nags and infiltrates, it coils around your brain, distorting your perceptions, it is the smoke you see everything through that refuses to lift. But a lie, hard and indisputable, freezes in your lungs, its ice spreading through your pores, chilling every synapse; a lie once discovered paralyzes you. – from Best Intentions, page 73 -

Listfield builds her story slowly. Narrated in the first person from Lisa’s point of view, the reader gains a deep understanding of Lisa’s fears and insecurities. This limited viewpoint works to build suspense as Lisa begins to doubt not only her marriage and relationship with her best friend, but also when she begins to uncover dark facts about her co-workers and clients.

Readers who are looking for pure mystery will be disappointed in Listfield’s book – not because it is not well written (it is), and not for lack of suspects (there are plenty)…but because the pace is slower than most mysteries. It is not until the last third of the book that the murder takes place and must be solved. Up until that point, the book reads more like women’s fiction or literary fiction with the focus on building the characters and their relationships to each other.

I like character driven novels and I was not put off by having to wait for the mystery to develop. I liked Listfield’s prose – direct, unswerving, and focused – and so I found this a hard book to lay down. I was pulled into Lisa’s life living in Manhattan, rubbing elbows with shallow and wealthy people…her tender relationship with her daughters, her self-doubt and desire for a simpler existence. I cared about her.

I recommend this book for readers who, like me, want more than a mystery. I am looking forward to reading more of Listfield’s work.

What had persuaded her to buy the house, though, were none of these sensible reasons but the thought that sprang into her mind at the first sight of the address – 41 Fortune Street – that her grandfather would have liked the name. “Straight out of Dickens,” she could hear him say, straw hat rocking. The pleasure of that image more than outweighed her own faint twinge of superstition. - from The House on Fortune Street, page 275 -

The House on Fortune Street is a leisurely novel about how our past reflects upon our future, and how our relationships with others are inextricably linked to how we integrate events from our childhood.

The book is broken into four separate parts – each narrated by a different character. Abigail  is an actress and playwright who immerses herself in loveless sex, protecting herself from the intimacy she knows may hurt her. Sean has left his wife and struggles to complete his dissertation on Keats. He moves into the Fortune Street house with Abigail and finds himself regretting his decisions. Dara is Abigail’s best friend from college. Highly sensitive, she works as a counselor and longs to find true love and start a family, but her questions about why her father abandoned his family when she was a young girl overshadow her happiness. Cameron, Dara’s father, is living with a secret and struggling to come to terms with yearnings he is unable to explain.

Early in the novel, a pivotal event occurs … and from this point onward the reader searches for understanding of each character’s motivation, desire, and fears. Livesey has given each character “a literary godparent” – an author who the character relates to and provides further understanding of that character’s personality. For Sean, Keats provides that role; for Abigail is is Charles Dickens; Dara relates to Charlotte Bronte, and the novel Jane Eyre; and Cameron connects with Charles Dodgson (better known as Lewis Carroll).

“My grandfather thought he could learn everything he needed to know about England by studying Dickens. He said everyone had a book, or a writer, that was the key to their life.” – from The House on Fortune Street, page 258 -

Margot Livesey’s prose is gentle and probing. In The House on Fortune Street she brings her story together with patience, carefully flushing out each character and putting together the pieces of their lives as though constructing a psychological jigsaw puzzle. Thematically she explores the idea of luck or chance vs. choice, and examines the role which early childhood plays in the development of our personalities. Specifically, she gives the reader a glimpse into the complexity of women’s friendships – the intimacy, as well as the secrecy which these types of relationships engender.

I found myself deeply involved in the lives of Livesey’s characters – I grew to care about them, to wonder about their choices, and to sympathize with their struggles. The format of the novel – a series of interlocking narratives – gave depth to the story which might not have happened if told only through the eyes of one character.

The House on Fortune Street is a heartbreaking tale which deals with some uncomfortable subject matter. It is not filled with action, but requires patience and a slow reading to fully appreciate. There are no sudden “aha” moments, but rather a gradual realization and understanding of the underlying message of the novel. At times I wanted to flip ahead to get to the nitty-gritty of the story, but I am glad I restrained myself from doing so as I think I would have been disappointed that there are no easy answers in this book.

Readers who enjoy well-written literary fiction will like Livesey’s style. Written with sensitivity and compassion, The House on Fortune Street is recommended.

He had no memory of a beginning – of a mother or father, sister or brother. His life was simply there, at Saint Anthony’s, and what he remembered began in the middle of things – the smell of boiled sheets and lye; the taste of watery oatmeal; the feel of dropping a brick onto a piece of stone, watching the red pieces split off, then using those broken shards to write on the wall of the monastery, and being slapped for this, and being forced to wash the dust away with a cold, wet rag. – from The Good Thief, page 4 -

Ren, missing a hand,  has lived for eleven years at an orphanage in New England – a place where children are whipped for infractions and schooled in Catholic doctrine. His friendships are few and his questions are many. Then one day a man named Benjamin Nab arrives at Saint Anthony’s claiming to be Ren’s brother. His wild stories convince the authorities at the orphanage to let Benjamin adopt Ren – and thus begins Ren’s second life filled with grave robbery, violence, and lies. Along the way, Ren makes friends with a paid assassin, a dwarf, a landlady who has a heart of gold, a nun, and a drunkard. He also begins to uncover the mystery surrounding his birth.

The Good Thief is a fast read and filled with unexpected events and excitement. Hannah Tinti’s story is a bit Dickensonian, but with more violence. Ren’s character is likable (he is the good thief, in case you were wondering)…he wants to do good, but is forced to lie and steal to survive. The writing in the novel is clean and vivid.

But, despite these strengths, I did not really enjoy this book. At times I felt the plot was too contrived, and the violence overdone and gratuitous. The number of evil characters in the novel turned me off a bit. I found myself wanting a better life for Ren and wondering if there were any loving adults in his world. Luckily, Mrs. Sand (the landlady) ends up being someone who provides the love Ren has never known. And although Tinti redeems some of her “bad” characters,  the novel overall was just too dark and depressing.

Many readers liked The Good Thief – in fact, it has won a host of awards including:

When I read through that list, I wonder if I was just not in the mood for this book at the time I read it. Reader’s who like fast-paced fiction and are not overly disturbed by graphic violence, might give this one a try.

The Author’s Website

Standing above the rug, he began to pray, but his thoughts continually turned to Nouf. For the sake of modesty, he tried not to imagine her face or her body, but the more he thought about her, the more vivid she became. In his mind she was walking through the desert, leaning into the wind, black cloak whipping against her sunburned ankles. – from Finding Nouf, page 2 -

Nayir ash-Sharqi, a desert guide, is hired by the Shrawi family to locate a family member who has disappeared. Nouf, only sixteen years old and planning her wedding, appears to have run away into the desert. But when her body is found in a wadi and the coroner reveals her cause of death as drowning, disturbing questions arise. Nayir joins forces with Katya Hijazi, a lab worker at the coroner’s office who is like no woman he has ever met. Together they begin to piece together Nouf’s last days and hours to uncover the mystery surrounding her death.

Finding Nouf is at its heart a mystery, but it is also more than this. Set in modern Saudi Arabia, the novel explores the role of women in a gender-segregated society which clings to its history while at the same time must address the changing views of the women it seeks to control and protect. Nayir is a devote man who prays regularly and wishes to follow the laws of Allah; but he is also a bachelor who fantasizes  of one day finding a woman with whom he can share his life.

Nayir sipped his tea and marveled at the casual way that Muhammad had spoken of his wife. There had been no need to explain who she was, and telling Nayir her name was something else entirely. It put Muhammad squarely in the category of young infidel wannabe. Gone were the days of calling one’s wife “the mother of Muhammad Junior”; today women had first names, last names, jobs and whatnot. He wondered how many men had known Nouf’s name. – from Finding Nouf, page 97 -

Nayir’s conflicted feelings provide the tension in the book. At first I disliked Nayir, finding him rigidly pious and chauvinistic. Ferraris does a remarkable job turning Nayir from a largely distasteful character to one the reader begins to respect. It is Nayir’s growth as a man (who comes to see women as human beings with dreams, desires and individual strengths) which elevates the novel to more than a simple whodunnit.

Katya represents the modern Saudi woman – a woman who has her own job and dares to speak to men not related to her. It is through her that the reader begins to gain a deeper understanding of Nouf – a teenager from a wealthy family who yearns for freedom.

Zoe Ferraris once lived in Saudi Arabia during the time following the first Gulf War. At that time, she was married to a Saudi-Palestinian Bedouin and was exposed to a culture largely closed to Americans. Knowing this about the author gave me respect for the perspective of this novel which although seen mostly through the eyes of the lead male character, exposes the dreams and desires of women living in a paternalistic society.

Ferraris’ writing is clean and riveting. The core mystery (what actually happened to Nouf) has many twists and turns which kept me guessing right to the end. This is a novel I would classify as “literary mystery” as its focus is as much on its main characters (and their growth) as on the mystery which propels the story.

Readers who enjoy a good mystery, as well as literary fiction, will enjoy this look inside the Saudi culture.

Recommended.

Finding Nouf is the 2009 Alex Award Winner

Zoe Ferraris Website

New Novel due out Spring 2010 (sequel to Finding Nouf): City of Veils

It’s hard for anyone to know where allusion ends and reality begins, let a lone a small child. - from Between Here and April, page 25 -

Elizabeth Burns, a journalist who has given up traveling the world to cover war stories in order to be there for her two children, begins suffering blackouts one day. When medical tests show there is no physical reason for her fainting spells, Elizabeth seeks psychiatric help. What she discovers is a long buried memory of the disappearance of her best friend April when she was six years old. Driven to seek out the truth, Elizabeth begins to research her April’s disappearance and uncovers a horrible truth – the disappearance was actually a murder committed by the girl’s own mother. Elizabeth’s journey to uncover the truth and understand the mind of a woman who would kill her own child opens a floodgate of unresolved issues for Elizabeth – a failing marriage, a brutal gang rape, and questions of her own ability to mother.

Between Here and April is a novel which reaches into the dark recesses of the human mind and looks at one of the most difficult to understand crimes: filicide. Deborah Copaken Kogan brings to the novel her own background of  journalism (she is the author of the bestselling memoir Shutterbabe which explored her life as a war photographer), and a history which includes a murdered childhood friend. In mining her own experiences, Kogan brings to her writing an honesty and clarity that transforms the novel into something that feels like a true crime story.

Between Here and April is provocative, tough to read and at times uncomfortable as it explores the subjects of sexual perversity, rape, child abuse, discrimination against women, and the unrelenting demands placed on mothers. Filicide is a crime which is almost unspeakable – and yet Cogan takes this topic head-on and seeks to find empathy for the woman who would be driven to commit such an act.

“Mrs. Cassidy had one arm wrapped around each of her daughters. The two girls…were lying on pillows, their feet toward the tailgate. They were dressed in flannel pajamas.” She held them while she killed them. She loved them, even as she was suffocating them. But she must have hated herself more. – from Between Here and April, page 223 -

Cogan’s writing is sharp, intuitive and hypnotic. I always enjoy novels written by journalists who have honed their writing skills to get to the core of the story quickly, and who know how to create tension and conflict between characters. This is not a book for everyone. Many readers will be disturbed by the images Cogan creates. The subject matter will turn many readers off. But, those readers willing to follow Cogan into the darkness will be rewarded with a story not soon forgotten.

Recommended.

The main thing isn’t about dying or how old you are when you die, it’s what you are doing the moment you die. In Taniguchi the heroes die while climbing Mount Everest. Since I haven’t the slightest chance of taking a stab at K2 or the Grandes Jorasses before June sixteenth, my own personal Everest will be an intellectual endeavor. I have set my goal to have the greatest number possible of profound thoughts, and to write them down in this notebook: even if nothing has any meaning, the mind, at least, can give it a shot, don’t you think? – from The Elegance of the Hedgehog, page 26 -

Renee Michel, concierge of a wealthy apartment building in Paris, screens her true nature from the residents she serves. She is a woman whose prickly attitude and appearance belies her love of art and literature, someone who finds beauty in a camellia and is horrified when a comma is misused in a sentence.

Madame Michel has the elegance of the hedgehog: on the outside, she’s covered in quills, a real fortress, but my gut feeling is that on the inside, she has the same simple refinement as the hedgehog: a deceptively indolent little creature, fiercely solitary – and terribly elegant. – from The Elegance of the Hedgehog, page 143 -

Paloma Josse, at age twelve, is plotting her own suicide before she turns thirteen and has decided to burn down the building in which she lives. But before she dies, she vows to write down profound thoughts in haiku. Highly intelligent and mature beyond her years, Paloma is fascinated by the beauty of movement such as a petal falling from a rose. She is also adept at observation…of the world at large and of her family whose dysfunction includes a depressed mother and a misguided sister.

When Kakura Ozu, a distinguished Japanese man, buys the apartment on the fourth floor of Renee and Paloma’s building the three are drawn together – people who appreciate art and simple beauty, and are seeking meaning in life.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog started slowly for me – in fact, I nearly stopped reading it at one point. But I persisted, and I am glad I did because Muriel Barbery has written an exceptional story about appearance, class, beauty, and the search for meaning in one’s life. Written in alternating viewpoints between Renee and Paloma, the book shows how an older lady from a poor background is not that different from a twelve year old being raised in a wealthy family.

We sit there for countless minutes holding hands, not speaking. I have become friends with a lovely twelve-year-old soul to whom I feel very grateful, and however incongruous this connection may be – asymmetrical in age, condition and circumstances – nothing can taint my emotion. - from The Elegance of the Hedgehog, page 289 -

The novel is rich in philosophy and thoughts about culture, art and literature. But it is the secret lives of its characters which drive the narrative and keep the reader turning the pages. Barbery’s writing is beautifully wrought and captures the small things in life which bring joy, wonder, and hope.

When of a sudden Old Japan intervenes: from one of the apartments wafts a melody, clearly, joyfully distinct. Someone is playing a classical piece on the piano. Ah, sweet, impromptu moment, lifting the veil of melancholy…In a split second of eternity, everything is changed, transfigured. A few bars of music, rising from an unfamiliar piece, a touch of perfection in the flow of human dealings – I lean my head slowly to one side, reflect on the camellia on the moss of the temple, reflect on a cup of tea, while outside the wind is rustling the foliage, the forward rush of life is crystallized in a brilliant jewel of a moment that knows neither projects nor future, human destiny is rescued from the pale succession of days, glows with the light at last and, surpassing time, warms my tranquil heart. – from Elegance of the Hedgehog, page 106 -

The Elegance of the Hedgehog was translated from the French by Alison Anderson. A sensation in France when it was published in 2007, the novel has won the hearts of Americans as well, which seems to validate Barbery’s theme that cultural differences do not preclude finding the beauty in simplicity. The Elegance of the Hedgehog is a simple story that explores complex ideas and leaves the reader fulfilled.

Highly recommended.

It was Kabutri’s question that triggered Deeti’s vision: her eyes suddenly conjured up a picture of an immense ship with two tall masts. Suspended from the masts were great sails of a dazzling shade of white. The prow of the ship tapered into a figurehead with a long bill, like a stork or a heron. There was a man in the background, standing near the bow, and although she could not see him clearly, she had a sense of a distinctive and unfamiliar presence. – from Sea of Poppies, page 7 -

Deeti, an Indian woman who grows poppies, has a vision of a ship – an odd vision because she lives 400 miles from the sea and has never seen a boat such as this…but her vision is a premonition and the ship has a name: Ibis. Thus begins Amitav Ghosh’s sprawling, historical saga Sea of Poppies. What follows is a story with a vast cast of characters whose paths ultimately cross enroute to the island of Mauritius aboard the Ibis – a former slave ship manned by a motley crew including an opium addicted captain, a freed American slave, and a foul-mouthed first mate with a penchant for cruelty. The voyagers include Paulette (a French woman with a sense of adventure who is fleeing an unacceptable situation in India), and Neel (a man who has been convicted of a crime he did not commit). But it is the Indian indentured workers who take center stage in a novel about caste, freedom, and human connection. And it is Deeti who becomes the central figure – a strong woman who marries beneath her caste and is respected by the other women aboard the ship.

The novel is beautifully imagined and captures the hopelessness of the opium factory workers, the daily lives of the villagers, the violence of ship law, and the diversity of an India in the mid-nineteenth century. Ghosh’s use of language in the novel is brilliant. Filled with strange words, pidgin English, and unusual sentence structure – the book at first seems unwieldy. But Ghosh succeeds where other less talented authors might not. The language, used with appropriate context, becomes almost like a musical score in a movie. Ghosh’s use of language demonstrates the way language can unite or divide people, and confuse or clarify situations. It is a powerful technique that works.

Historically, Sea of Poppies is set just prior to the Opium Wars and revolves around the British involvement in India and their trade practices exporting opium from India to China. Ghosh reveals the damage done by British colonial rule and the devastation wreaked upon the Indian economy, as well as society at large. Although apparently Ghosh’s creative inspiration was the indentured people of India, he says in an interview: “[...] once I started researching into it, it was kind of inescapable – all the roads led back to opium. The indentured emigration [out of India] really started in the 1830s and that was [around the time of] the peak of the opium traffic. That decade culminated in the opium wars against China.”

Ghosh is skilled at creating character…and in Sea of Poppies the characters are memorable and complex.

This was a personage of formidable appearance, with a face that would have earned the envy of Genghis Khan, being thin, long and narrow, with darting black eyes that sat restlessly upon rakishly angled cheekbones. Two feathery strands of moustache drooped down to his chin, framing a mouth that was constantly in motion, its edges stained a bright, livid red: it was as if he were forever smacking his lips after drinking from the opened veins of a mare, like some bloodthirsty Tartar of the steppes. The discovery that the substance in his mouth was of vegetable origin came as no great reassurance to Zachary: once, when the serang spat a stream of blood-red juice over the rail, he noticed the water below coming alive with the thrashing of shark’s fins. How harmless could this betel-stuff be if it could be mistaken for blood by a shark? – from Sea of Poppies, page 13 -

Although filled with adventure and interesting plot twists, Sea of Poppies is also about what makes us human in the face of crisis. One particularly memorable part of the novel to me was when Neel loses his caste and is convicted of the crime of forgery. Thrown into jail, he is forced to share a cell with an Asian named Ah Fatt who is hopelessly addicted to opium and lies in his own waste. For Neel, a man of stature who is fastidously clean, the situation is almost unbearable. And then he makes a self-discovery about what it means to care for another human being:

To take care of another human being – this was something Neel had never before thought of doing, not even with his own son, let alone a man of his own age, a foreigner. All he knew of nurture was the tenderness that had been lavished on him by his own care-givers: that they would come to love him was something he had taken for granted – yet knowing his own feelings for them to be in no way equivalent, he had often wondered how that attachment was born. It occurred to him now to ask himself if this was how it happened: was it possible that the mere fact of using one’s hands and investing one’s attention in someone other than oneself, created a pride and tenderness that had nothing whatever to do with the response of the object of one’s care – just as a craftsman’s love for his handiwork is in no way diminished by the fact of it being unreciprocated? - from Sea of Poppies, page 300 -

It was moments like these in the story which elevated it above the typical historical novel.

Some readers have found the ending of Sea of Poppies to be abrupt and unresolved. I would agree. However, this book is the first in a planned trilogy which may explain the ending. At any rate, Sea of Poppies completely enthralled me and I am looking forward to the next two books.

Readers who love world and historical literature, and who enjoy richly textured sagas will love Sea of Poppies.

Highly recommended.

Read more about the book and planned trilogy.

Read more about Amitav Ghosh and his work at the author’s website.

Read an interview with the author.

And then suddenly an arm of sunlight reached through a high window and opened its hand upon her face. I saw her eyes as clearly as if we had been pressed against one another in a very small space. - from Love Begins in Winter, page 41 -

Simon Van Booy’s five story collection, Love Begins in Winter, explores the lives of ordinary men and women who stumble upon love in all its many forms.  From the lonely and grieving cellist who literally bumps into the woman who becomes his lover, to the young gypsy boy who lingers outside the home of two girls who have lost their parents … Van Booy’s characters take the reader on a journey of the heart. Threaded through these simple stories are the themes of self identity, grief, longing, and renewal.

Van Booy is a poet and a journalist who has lived in London, Wales, Greece, Paris and New York City – and these experiences are apparent in his writing. Lyrical and stylistic, Van Booy’s prose is a bit like listening to a complicated musical performance – at once beautiful and elusive. He sets his characters in places like Montreal in the winter, and in St. Peter’s square in Rome, and along the steep cliffs of Ireland – places that invite introspection.

One story in this collection baffled me. Tiger, Tiger is disjointed and confusing, a story about a pediatrician and her boyfriend which draws on childhood memories and behavior. It is the second piece in the collection which,  had it not been for the wonderful title story, I might have put the book down. I am glad I did not.

My favorite story in the collection is the title story: Love Begins In Winter. From the first, the reader understands that Bruno Bonnet, a cellist, holds grief in his heart from the loss of his childhood friend. He carries her mitten in his pocket at each of his performances.

If only one of them recognized me, I could slip from the branches of my life, brush time from my clothes, and begin the long journey across the fields to the place where I first disappeared. A boy leaning crookedly on a gate, waiting for his best friend to get up. The back wheel of Anna’s bicycle still spinning. – from Love Begins in Winter, page 4 -

Van Booy captures the loneliness of the protagonist, even when Bruno is in the bustling city of Los Angeles.

Further north, approaching Hollywood – hot dog stands with neon arrows and faded paint; tattooed women with chopped black hair buying lip gloss at Hollywood pharmacies; a homeless man pushes a shopping cart full of shoes but he is barefoot. He keeps looking behind. His stomach hangs out. Sometime in the 1960s he was delivered into the trembling hands of his mother. If only it could happen again. Los Angeles is a place where dreams balance forever on the edge of coming true. A city on a cliff held fast by its own weight. – from Love Begins in Winter, page 50 -

It is only when the cellist meets Hannah, a woman who still mourns the loss of her brother, that he realizes he is no longer alone in the world. Love Begins in Winter is a touching story about the healing power of love.

I also was delighted with The Coming and Going of Strangers which revolves around a love sick gypsy boy named Walter living in Ireland.

Walter wheeled his hot, ticking motorbike up and down the muddy lane, breathing with the rhythm of a small, determined engine. Fists of breath hovered and then opened over each taken-step. He would soon be within sight of his beloved’s house. – from The Coming and Going of Strangers, page 135 -

In this tale about first love, Van Booy provides a wonderful surprise ending that lifts the story a notch above excellent.

In The City of Windy Trees, a character named George Frack receives a letter which completely changes the course of his life. I loved this story about the renewal of the human spirit through our connections with others.

Van Booy captures the essence of what makes us human, and how love can be found in the most unexpected places. Readers who love poetry will enjoy this collection of stories which often feel like long, narrative poems.

Highly recommended.